


Initiating The New

by Septictrash247



Series: Tales From The Alabaster Table [7]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Creative Liberties, Dark gets sentimental, Dark tries hard, Darkiplier support, Existential Angst, Fanservice, First Meetings, Forgotten Egos, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Host threats, I Am Groot (Marvel), Illinois makes enemies, Insults, Ipliers are disorganized, Iplier’s get their shit together, M/M, Septics are supportive, The Jims are basically slaves, Yancy is a nervous wreck, fandom talk, mentions of Daniel, wilford being wilford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-21 21:47:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Septictrash247/pseuds/Septictrash247
Summary: Yancy and Illinois are the new kids in town and they have a lot to learn about how things work around here. Such as, try not stealing another ego’s boyfriend.Dark has had enough of babysitting so he decides to try and split things diligently between everyone. This goes about as well as you expect it to.
Relationships: Ego/Egos, Mark Fischbach/Sean McLoughlin
Series: Tales From The Alabaster Table [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1098027
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	1. New Kids on the Block

**Author's Note:**

> I’m in Markiplier Hell.. Thank you to Dis_connect for helping me edit this out.

After yet another testy glance at his watch, Dark shuffled his papers and tapped their edges impatiently against the cool surface top of the table. Since the new arrivals from Mark’s most recent project had been released, the table’s size had stretched in order to accommodate the newest Ipliers as well as the already established motley crew of problematic, conflicting, and unstable egos. Only one was even on time today, the rest filtering in as they pleased. Dark was slightly surprised that the non mandatory half even showed up. 

Off to Dark’s left and very deliberately out of reach, the biggest of Mark’s latest creations seemed to want to make himself the smallest with each new body that entered the room. Given to him were the instructions; sit down and not cause a ruckus.

Yancy Yarnell appeared intent to all-out disappear by occupying as little of his chair as possible. Every now and again he’d looked longingly towards the door, praying for an escape. Being this one of the few times he truly felt the urge to be free. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was here anyway. All he had knowledge of was that his very presence was demanded through the means of a very carefully worded pardon. 

The inmate could only guess that Dark had something to do with it. Dark to him seemed like Murder Slaughter but more.. Calculating and on edge, something about the way he stood there stock still as the other lively bunch came in unsettled the convict.. He couldn’t even fathom why Darkiplier of all people would even bother to get him here for something so presumably important. Given Yancy was the only one that could legitimately claim ignorance of the happenings in the world, being so happily entrenched in the beige walls of prison. 

He wished he was back there now. The whole _‘Bein’ social what with the outsides and whats.’_ Wasn’t really his speciality.

Yancy watched as unfamiliar people filter in around him. His entire body seemed to shrink in on itself. He searched faces all-too familiar to his own, seeking out intent and perhaps being a touch awed that they all seemed so very at ease in so much open space. Then, a bit of solace came in the form of thinly framed, blue eyed look a likes. They seemed to give off a much friendlier vibe.

Soon, the little entourage gathered. Apart from Yancy needing instruction, the Ipliers fell into their natural, assigned seating arrangements with little more than a warning glance at Bing for invading upon Google’s space. Dark’s vision of order however, was tossed out the window with the invited chaos of the Septics. Dark couldn’t be bothered to correct them as they always did what they wanted and hell, they weren’t high priority, so the seating went as such. Leaving Wilford mirroring Dark at the other end of the ever growing alabaster table, clearly enjoying the utter lack of order. Dark decided to start the meeting off pronto, but it was clear that he was anxious about something what with the continuously shifting gaze lingering at the ajared door directly next to him, but no one dared to comment. 

“This is a rather special circumstances so, I would like to start us off with having our guests start their rounds at the table first. Septics? Feel free to get to know our new addition, and please try to keep the queries to a minimum.”

This was surprising. Dark letting someone else take control of the table? He must be really distracted by something. But before anyone could say a word or question the motion, the door opened quite suddenly. Whatever anxiety was curling up in the pit of Dark’s stomach was replaced with absolute disgust. A soft golden glow that everyone was sure wasn’t there before illuminated the figure in the door’s frame. His hair was tousled perfectly, his skin seemed to resonate with the oddly soft but powerful and luminous glow, making his already bronze skin shine like amber. His tired yet effortless smile showed the slightest hint of pearly white teeth hidden behind soft lips. His eyes crinkled showing that he smiled that gorgeous smile often, adding kindness and humor to his deep chocolate brown eyes. His clothing resembled a moderately competent attempt at an _‘Indiana Jones’_ cosplay but somehow coming off as its own thing. His tanned button up shirt ironically was unbutton towards the starting point of the man’s belly button. Aw yes, Illinois.. The… Um.. Sexy one? Whatever he was, Dark certainly would add a whole new bunch of labels for it. _Late_ being the primary choice. 

“Sorry I’m late..”

His voice doing it’s best Harrison Ford impression. Not bad in all honesty, but it still struck a nerve in our dark and dapperly dressed demagogue. 

“I was just on my way over when an old friend of mine dropped by. A Naiad, or a Pegaiai from Mount Helikon. She invited me for a quick swim and we lost track of the schedule. I barely had time to fix myself.”

_Barely_ , he says. Dark grunted, creating more frown lines upon his already haggard features.. “What a coincedence, I was thinking about fixing myself a noose to hang myself with.” The head honcho stated quite rudely, to which Wilford outright scolded him for while simultaneously appearing right by Illinois’ side.

“Now, now Dark! No need for such improper hostilities.” Wil wrapped an arm around their new friend’s shoulder. Illinois just kinda glanced over at the eldest ego with a certain kind of regard as the pink male just suddenly popped up right next to him. 

“Don’t mind him,” Wilford assured Illinois with a pat on his bare chest. “He’s just jealous because no one finds him as sexually appealing anymore—”

“Wil..”

Dark warned in a tone more exasperated than threatening. Wilford considered this very carefully, pink eyes flickering over Dark’s tightened expression. The eldest leaned over to the adventurer and whispered not so quietly against his ear. His voice giddy like this was some inside gossip that they both understood somehow, despite the two only having just met.

“Menopause.”

He simply stated. This caused Illnios and Host, who was beside them probably narrating this endeavor in his head, to snort. Dark’s black eyes just narrowed and his frown increased. “Sit. Down.” He demanded the two. They did with blatant indifference, and Illinois sat himself down perfectly in the center of a honey pot of Septics alongside Wilford.

While this commotion was happening, Chase’s interest tapered off from the initial awe of Illinois’ rather glowing entrance—being spoken for and all, and by god was he not going to fuck this marriage up no way no how— the ex-vlogger turned his attention towards his neighbor. Another new Iplier ego clothed in prison garb. Chase scrutinized the noob, noticing something a little shaken about the way the prisoner carried himself. The dude could empathize, and his therapist told him to make some more friends, so what was the harm in saying hello? Nudging him with a shoulder, “Hey, you look a little nervous there buddy.” He said softly as to not bring himself anymore attention. 

Yancy turned and looked over at Chase a bit started. Realizing his mistake, he corrected himself by facing his torso towards the paler person. His left elbow leaning against the back of the chair, a leg raised up to rest in his lap, and his other hand was placed upon the table top’s surface. It also didn’t hurt to puff up his chest a little bit.

“Who? Me? Naaah, just, going through the motions that’s all.”

Chase’s eyebrows rose, looking very unconvinced and unimpressed, but his smile was genuine enough. “Is that seriously the accent yer stickin’ with?” 

The convict was caught off guard by this comment, a quick flash of recollection shined in his eyes for a moment. He steals himself and pouts, quipping back, “Is that the accent YOUSES stickin’ with?”   
  


Chase’s eyes widen, eyebrows still raised, but this time he’s fully impressed. The irishmen bites his lower lip, cheeks flushing a bit at the fact that this guy was able to call him out on his not-so-american-accent. His shy little smile only grows and he nudges Yancy with his shoulder. “Pfft, not bad kid.” He murmurs with a friendly lilt towards his natural speaking voice. 

“Kid? I’m pretty sure I'm older than yous.” But Yancy is also mirroring a much easier smile, the tension in his shoulders releasing as his posture relaxes more.

“Maybe physically, Mentally on te other hand.”

“Alright, alright, yous can win this one round. Can I at least get a name first from you smart guy?”

“Sure, my name’s Chase, what’s yers?”

“Yancy.” 

Both reach a hand forward to shake and due to being in the same row, Chase doesn’t miss how Google was watching him right now. He communicates that he should chill with a little squint of his eyes, but he knows the android is going to hold onto this little moment until they get home. “I like yer tattoos.” Chase quipps up trying to rally his brain back into the present moment. 

Yancy’s smile widens as he pulls his hand back and bares his neck better for his new acquaintance to get a better look at his little biscuit. “Oh yeah?” He says, like he's just now noticing but the enthusiasm totally gives it away.

“Gotta say, you got some fine lookin’ ink on yous as well, get em in prison too?”

“Pfft, what? No, I ain’t never been te prison befer.”

“Really? Aw that’s too bad, yous’d fit right in, I can tell.”

Yancy forgot that prison life isn’t for everyone. His hardened heart sorta lurches at the way Chase’s face falls with not just concern. Some sorta worry that seems too deep and dangerous to place. The man that’s from Ohio but acts like he’s from the Bronx bites his tongue before he has the chance to choke on it. “Uh, I mean.. I jus’— Um.. Meant you looked smart enough ta get through it alright is...what I was meaning is all.”

Chase sorta took the previous statement a bit personally, what with his own skeletons he had hidden away that only Google, and some… Undesirable knew about. But he forgot that not everyone knows this about him, and that this new guy, well— he didn’t seem to mean anything by it. And hell, the apology was an appreciative effort, and he certainly wasn’t one to judge someone’s character based on a short conversation. His small smile return, nodding in understanding. “That’s okay. N’ thanks.” 

Yancy too nods in validation. Drumming his inked fingers on the table for a moment. He finally decides to restart that conversation and leans over to murmur something. “How’d you know I was nervous?” 

Chase grins inwardly to himself for his own validation. “Yer eyes are strained forward, yer shoulders are way beyond tense, n’ yer back straight waitin’ fer someone te call on you.. Or call you out. Either way, you jus’...kinda read it.”

His therapy sessions have really helped him to point out and pay closer attention to how he and other people carry themselves, a really useful thing he’s a little proud he’s gotten down. Or maybe it’s just because he was teaching Google how to be more expressive that he started picking up on these habits. Either one would’ve worked. All he got in response was a soft, “Ah..” He bit at his worn lip again and offered a more honest smile.

“Don’ be nervous. At least.. Not around us. N’ Dark, well.. I know he means well. He jus’ gets cranky sometimes. Try te use the 4-7-8 technique; breathe in through yer nose for 4 seconds. hold the breath fer 7 seconds, then exhale fer 8.”

“Heh, 4, 7, 8.. That’s some smart thinkin’ there.”

“Don’ mention it.”

“Yous alright, Chase.”

“Yer not a complete Gobdaw either.” He smiles and nudges him once more in a teasing sort of manner. Yancy wasn’t entirely sure what that word meant or what it was supposed to mean in this context. But well, he had a thought and comfort from his new acquaintance’s tone that, he too thought the convict was A-OK. Yancy smiled back, feeling the uneasy little pit in his stomach lessen a tad, feeling grateful. That was when the conversation of Wilford and Dark enlisted sniggers from the opposite corner to their far left. The focus was brought back towards its desired attention.


	2. Honey Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not Illinois’ fault he’s so hot.

The Septics now had the lovely introduction of Illinois, seeing as how he was in the middle of all of them. Being so friendly in nature, they leapt at the opportunity to make a good first impression on this uh… moderately attractive stranger. Well, most of them anyway. Marvin was unimpressed and had better things to do. Robbie was so painfully shy that he didn’t manage to squeak a word. So they opted to just listen in, while Dark let the Irish squad do as they pleased.

Jamie hopped up upon the table’s surface edge facing the newbie completely. This was unnecessary considering he was sitting right next to him but— to each his own. He stuck out his hand with a friendly and bright smile that honestly needed to be illegal for being so unworldly cute. The adventurer didn’t mind at all and took the hand into his with a breathy little chuckle. “Eager, are we?” He drawled out. 

Jamie’s smile just brightened, pulling his oddly warm hand back and started to sign. In his own excitement, the little guy forgot that not everyone knew ASL. He also forgot he was missing his little whiteboard to write and or doodle on. Marvin, Jamie’s best friend for life, place a hand onto his thigh to garner his attention. It was one of the few times the magician felt calmed and relaxed enough to chuckle in good nature.  
  
“Whoa there, slow down there buddy. I think he needs te understand you first. Need me te translate?”

Illinois rose a dismissive hand, his charming smile seemed to be permanently fixed there. “No need. Go again, please?” 

The silent chap’s eyebrows rose in surprise but signed a bit more slowly.  
  
‘My name is Jameson Jackson. You can call me JJ, or Jamie. It is very nice to meet you.’

“Illinois, it’s a pleasure as well my dapper dressed friend.”

He winked and Jamie’s little heart did something funny, a steady little darken grey blush filled his cheeks and maybe Jim II over there was a tad— Okay.. A lot jealous. 

“You know how to sign?” marveled Henry, the surgeon. To be honest, the question on his mind right now was something along the lines of, _“Is that whip just for show or can you demonstrate how it works on me?”_ but that seemed wildly inappropriate for a first impression, a little too forward even by his own standards, and the other doctor was right there. On the other hand… maybe pissing off the usually patient psychiatrist would be fun for later. Nah, too risky.

The sinfully attractive male chuckled heartily once more. “I’m a bit rusty when using the language myself, but one time I was venturing around the Great Plains of Mississippi— Excavation purposes, boring plain ol’ scouting, looking for ancient weapons. No need to bore you with all that stuff. Anyways, I ran across members from the nomadic tribes of the Great Plains, the land bounded by the Mississippi on the east and the Rocky Mountains in the west. This land was known for its famous mounted hunters of bison, they told me. A few of the members spoke the old Native Sign Language. I was taught some during my stay— I made good friends with an ex-chieftain. I even hunted a few bison the old way, very exhilarating.”

The risk taker reminisce with fondness, speaking about the situation like it happened eons ago even though he himself had come into existence since…a few months ago. 

“Give me a break..” Dark mumbled to himself just barely audible towards anyone near him. He did not like Illinois, not even a little. True, this judgement was unfounded considering he only met the man briefly during his time during Mark’s latest project. But the way he carried himself, the sheer amount of over the top and grandiose way of presenting himself… Okay, so _all_ of them were like that, and that wasn’t a fair complaint. Perhaps it’s the way Dark absolutely detested fanservice, having been forced into situations of whoring himself out, while Illinois seemed to embody all of that nonsense just rubbed him the wrong way. 

Needless to say, the Septics— save for Marvin who kinda just kept rolling his eyes —were hooked. Especially a certain little risk taker himself who was leaning forward with absolute intrigue. “You actually did that?” He asked with awe in his voice, and stars in his eyes. Somehow that granted Illinois’ attention. Due to probably being blessed by one deity or another, he sensed a kindred love of adventure in the oldest Septic’s soul. Ah yes, a fellow daredevil cando attitude he had sorely been missing since his most recent partners ... Well, lacked the enthusiasm to keep up. This one was; energized, eager, ready for anything, and had seen a fair share of danger to know how to handle himself. It also helped that the guy was… Easy on the eyes, all things considering. He grinned, showing off his perfectly white teeth, and leaned forward as well. Torso turning, flexing handsomely in order to speak to John directly. 

“Interested in hearing more ...?” His sentenced lingered, inviting the stranger with sparkling eyes to lend his name. The fair skinned elder of his own group perked up like he just remembered where he was. 

“Hi!”

He exclaimed with much more intensity than he normally would put out when first meeting someone. Yandere-chan over there giggled at his/her(?) friend’s eagerness. 

“M’ John, the oldest Septic here. You’ve met Jamie, the youngest— goin’ up te list is Robbie, he’s shy so jus’ give him time te warm up, uh– that’s Chase, super rad guy. He’s Henry, or Henrik– doesn’ matter which, Marvin te more than stoic one over there—”

“Least I act my age..” Said stoic one jabbed, perhaps just a little bit salty about the comment.

“N’ last but not– oh, heh, sorry, I went through everyone.”

He blushed rubbing the back of his neck knowing he totally went on a breathless and messy tangent once more. That usually grated on people’s nerves so he apologized once more, just for extra measures. “S-sorry, I jus’– get kinda excited, n’ m’ usually a lot more subdued than this, not by a lot– but, totally way more quiet, n’ I don’ want yer first impression te be that m’ some fast talkin’ idiot that doesn’ know how te shut up–”

“Oh, oh no we’re losin’ him. John, foukin’ breath dude!”

Chase called out and gesture towards Robbie to try and help cease the situation before John talked himself into a corner. Being put on the spot, poor Robbie didn’t know what to do so Henry over here had to lean over and slapped the back of the rambling fool’s head.

“Ow! Te fouk?”

“You vere doing it again, nothing personal.”

“You didn’ hafta _hit_ me.”

“Yeah doc, the hell, I didn’ say te backhand him.”

“Oh _relax_ , I barely tapped you, sheesh.”

The oldest rubbed the back of his head soothingly, glaring at the doctor. He noticed he still had an audience with this handsome gentleman and felt the uncomfortable warmth and shame crawl up along his neck. “S-sorry..” He whispered much more gently. Said audience kinda just found this whole thing amusing and his new little friend here very cute. “No worries,” the Korean reassured. “I find your vim and vigor,” he took the free hand that rested upon the table into his own careful touch as his little compliment continued. “To be a welcomed change of pace. A very desired and _attractive_ trait to be sure.” and finished with a light kiss upon the reddening ego’s hand with a deep hum of approval.

**Bad move.**

Even though, from his peers, John would only be given a hard time for this little flirtatious venture, someone else was not exactly _warming up_ towards the exchange. Considering, that John was already spoken for by a more dangerous and violent entity that was listening, narrating, and _watching_ as the exchange ensued. Host could read Illinois' thoughts and they held sensual misintent.The original Darkiplier was not at all happy about this. He couldn’t read John’s thoughts due to his spontaneity, so if he left him for this kindred, friendly, outdoors-y, and much more charismatic version of himself…well, he couldn’t be entirely sure John wouldn’t choose to do so. He stewed in his discontempt, plotting revenge for this **_new_** **_threat_**.


	3. The Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Host lays down the law.

There was a reason the Septics were allowed to have the floor first. There were only six of them present; they never talked about the lingering sense of threat, danger, and fear that all came from a single source. That may have not been exactly healthy in Jack’s case but it sure made time go a hell of a lot faster, as far as Dark was concerned. With the formalities out of the way and the hour passing by, Dark busied himself. Collecting his inner thoughts, swallowing down the anticipation knotting up in his dry throat. He wasn’t nervous persay. Just anxious as the approaching dread of collective groans and or arguments were soon to make themselves known amongst his peers. So for the moment he took this silence as a time of welcomed preparation. 

Once the hour was up and the small ephemera of guests were asked politely to be on their way, a sense of relief washed over the head of the Iplier’s, an outside audience had no business witnessing their trainwreck of an attempted discourse at this very moment. Even though they abided by his request, the fact that Illinois was now  _ ‘recovering’  _ from the limitless attention, just put Dark in a worse mood. It should’ve been comical how the adventurer almost looked like he was supposed to be covered in lipstick marks at this very moment. But, again, Dark just wanted to push these disgusting thoughts and feelings aside for the sake of actual work.

Now it was their time.

The assembly of doppelgangers had settled down. The chatters turning to hushed voices and small murmurs before dead silence fell over each and everyone of them like a gossamer veil. Soft brown, and brightly colored hues looked to Dark as he stood very slowly, caressing and swiping at the creases that dared to invade the smooth pinstriped material of his suit. The entity cleared his throat and rolled his neck, taking the floor that was rightfully relinquished to him.

“Welcome, everyone. As you know we find ourselves amongst the company of new faces that have yet to be introduced to us. Illinois, Yancy.” 

He barely tilted his chin down in acknowledgment, too focused on his presentation to even put forth the effort to nod.   
  
“We’ve met before, though brief. I assume you know who Wilford is.”

Said Mother Lovin’ Warfstache just kicked his feet up upon the table, leaning back further into his swivel office chair. A smug and yet somehow aloof smile graced his lips. “Pleasure.” Was all he said. 

Dark’s right eye twitched. “Yes..” He drawled out slowly, almost hissing upon the pronunciation. “We’ll introduce everyone here in just a minute. For now I would like to divert your attention to the rules I am about to provide for you— “ His tangent was interrupted by the man clauded in bandages directly towards his right.

  
  


“If I may Dark. I would like to go over the rules regarding our… new and inexperienced companions.”

That was a first. Host never really participated in these kinds of talks, nor did he ever seem interested in lending a helping hand, let alone advice. Dark blinked to better process and understand the situation before tugging securely once more on his outer jacket collar. “Um...you may proceed?” He nodded, given Host the floor.   
  


Host took his time situating himself to the room. Those of the group who knew him well enough all leaned in with intrigue with how he was going to present these well established rules. He sat straight, and stayed stock still. Only his head began to rotate towards his right, peering down the outstretched glossy white surface. Even though his bloodied eyes were covered, they bore their heated malice directly at Illinois. “You have a lot to learn..” He stated slowly. If it wasn’t clear who these rules were intended for, now it was definitely clear. Standing just as slowly, gaze perfectly fixated on his presumed romantic rival as he continued.

“For instance, there are certain rules that are to be established, mayhaps I need to spell things out more clearly.”

  
Host carefully shifted around his chair and began to stalk forward towards his designated target. His voice deep and rumbling with rich thunder as his very presence emanated the same kind of intimidation as a lingering black cloud.

Illinois had seen a lot of things in his travel, and had encountered his fair share of rivals and opposition to be sure. But this was… This was enough to make him nervous. The man approaching...looming closer and closer towards him, it was almost impossible to describe why his very presence was so unnerving. The creamed beige trench coat gilded behind the Host amongst an unforeseen invisible wind. It was like a phantom emerging from the very depths of Hell. The archaeologist backed up just a tad, not entirely sure if he should flee or stand his ground. The apparition continued to speak, a heavy weight pressing against the uncommonly attractive man’s very being as he did so.

“Number one; everyone in this room is bounded by the general consensus that we are here for one purpose and one purpose only. Discussing, then providing necessary and constructive actions to take into consideration for Mark’s life. And anyone who deviates from that path will be branded.. Scorched..  **Scarred** , as a threat.”

The heavy forced seemed to have rooted Illinois towards his spot. He had never seen a power like this before! Now Host’s voice was— it was echoing inside his head! He was in his head! Yet still that probing, predatory movement and gaze was still hell bent on coming towards him. Illinois couldn’t breath effectively. Why was no one stepping in the middle of this?

“Second; we are all prone to settle differences in our own way, diplomatically, or .. In certain manners that are, mm how shall I put it …? Less than pleasant, in a way. It doesn’t matter, as long as the point gets across. There are no restrictions here when it comes to physical confrontation ...”

He was directly in front of him now. The Host looked down upon the firmly seated man and quirked a small, calm, and uneasy smile. He tilted his head to the side, seemingly peering down through Illinois’ body like a hungry vulture. He took his time before leaning down, his smile dropped like a cement block and Illinois’ stomach followed after. Grabbing him tightly by the collar of his shirt, the adventurer couldn’t even squeak let alone make a verbal protest as his throat seemed to close up. His honey brown eyes now wide and yes, now was a great time to feel panicked. 

“Third; you are  **not** .  **ALLOWED. TO** **_STEAL_ ** .  **ANYONE’S.** **_MOTHER FUCKING_ ** **_BOYFRIEND_ ** **_!_ ** ”

The less than human male sneered with a bellowing roar right in his face. There was stillness as he was held close. Those blood splotches, like empty vacant holes.. It wasn’t common for Illinois’ to have night terrors but those  _ ‘eyes’  _ and that voice. That voice that sounded identical to his own but somehow registering to him as something so alien in nature... they would be haunting his dreams tonight. Host leaned in further, tone now but a low rumbling murmur. 

“So, while you may be a fan favorite, where as I am nothing but a distant memory, I’d like you to come and see me for who and what I was made for. Well? What say you pretty boy?”

If he had the capability to speak, Illinois wouldn’t have wanted to. That face held a challenging glare, jaw tight and teeth gritted, _daring_ him to speak up. Slowly, very slowly and cautiously, the captive shook his head declining the offer. Deep dark eyes still wide with fear, beads of sweat now forming underneath the band of his hat. Host scoffed, and just like that, the heavy weight was lifted as he shoved him back against his chair. “Didn’t think so.” Sneering as his point was most definitely made, the adversary added something else as he turned to make his way back towards his seat. “Oh and, so you don’t get confused…that excitable irishmen...the one who's _easy on the eyes_? He’s off limits.” 

Illinois then had a thought as he cautiously watched the Host return to his seat.  _ “If I just witnessed what  _ **_jealousy_ ** _ was… I don’t even want to know what  _ **_anger_ ** _ looks like.” _


	4. In Regards..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark laments about the inevitable..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this made me tear up a tad.

As the Host had made his declaration known, Dark just kinda took the whole thing in strides and eyed him with apathy before continuing like nothing had happened in the first place.

“Yes…well, anyway. Now to move on to a more pressing matter of business, and yes, that does happen to fall upon the newly announced. I think that it’s fair for the uninitiated to become initiated. So—“

Wilford butted in, giving his poor shaken neighbor a reaffirming pat on the back as he called out to Dark from across the table. “Initiated asphyxiated!” Warfstache then um…proceeded to push himself out from underneath the table and made of show of pushing with his feet at full force from the wall. Effectively propelling himself on his rolly chair and spinning casually towards Dark. 

“It’s so booooooooring! Whenever a new one of us springs up from the ground like a fresh field of daisies, we go through this over and over and over again, I’m sick of it. Why can’t we ever do anything fun?”

Dark’s eye just twitched again and purposely stepped back to try and avoid being near such a ridiculous display as much as possible. “Because—” He stressed before scoffing once Wil decided to follow him. He scowled and kicked the chair with enough force to push the man back away from his personal space.

“Because it’s work, Wilford. Like it or not, this is what we do and this is our responsibility. _They_ don’t know how things operate here.”

He gestured towards a rattled Illinois and just as anxious Yancy. A side comment from Jim III garnered Dark’s attention, “Do we even know how to operate?” His question was answered in the form of a deep and weighed glare. Dark once again smoothed out his suit and even flipped his bangs out of his face for that added extra measure before continuing. The overseer tried to soften his tone for a different approach, but currently with Warfstache still rolling along to and fore amongst the aisle. That certainly made it difficult to concentrate. 

“They.. They have to be shown how they can contribute efficiently and effectively. What else can we do? Let them just exist all for naught, like dead weight? They’d just end up...well, for lack of a better word like the...One Shots.”

There was a moment of silence as that comment sank in. It…didn’t settle right for some reason, until Dr. Iplier managed to pick up on the situation. His facial expression read more than just concern or worry. His voice stuttering upon the unknown of the upcoming answer.

“W-wait, does… Does that fall onto.. M-me?”

And Dark, poor Dark who now had figuratively shot himself in the foot tried his damndest to control the situation as swiftly and calmly as he could. “No, that’s not what I was referring too—“ But it was too late. The Iplier egos had caught on to who exactly Dark was referring to, and the uproar began. Ed Edgar has always been a little pissed off that his persona had been replaced by Mark’s fictional and equally as dysfunctional family, the Dereksons. The southern slurred man voiced his concerns eloquently.

“Wait a ding dang damn minute! _Are_ you talkin’ about us? Are you kickin’ us out? That better not be the case. It ain’t my fault that this yellow bellied spineless pansy over here got the special treatment! I was the original spokesperson n’ I have no idea why my job’s been took!”

The amputee, a more timid than cautious Iplier, Erick Derekson bit his lip and looked away guilty as hell. He felt bad for the situation, especially considering he didn’t even want this position to begin with. Then Bim chimed in and started voicing his own egotistical outrage. 

“Dark, that’s not fair! I would give _anything_ to see the stage again, I would give anything to perform again! You can’t seriously suggest that _I_ need to leave. I contribute more than anyone on and off camera, _I’m_ the talented one here!”

“No you sure as hell don’t! When’s the last time you’ve _ever_ made an appearance? Don’t forget, I was doing your shtick before you, _I should_ be you!”

“ _Oh_ that’s a crock of shit, no one even remembers you, Orgazmo’s Silver Surfer!”

“It’s Silver Shepherd!”

“I’m king of the squirrels!”

His face was devoid of oily peanut butter this time. But with the odor that emanated from his side of the room, the king might as well have had that bread-spread on. His voice held a stern tone his face was deathly serious, causing Jim II to gasp in pure shock. The reporter stood straight from his seat, dignity mocked and offended. His brothers stood with him, their honor equally insulted by the royal rodent.

“Don’t you talk about our mother that way, that’s low even for you!” 

The bickering only continued to grow from there. Snide comments, insults, and tactless reasons why one Ego was better than another. All too prideful and self entitled to call it quits, even Edward had his moments. It was chaos and Dark mistakenly looked to Wilford for help. Even though the sheer thought of a hypothetical scenario like that was nonexistent. The eldest and most powerful ego of them all found plenty of joy and fulfillment just rolling himself back and forth in his office chair all along the carpeted aisle. The shade had just about enough of this nonsense and slammed his fist down upon the table. If he wanted, the surface could’ve splintered under his strongest of blows. But there was no need for such barbaric behavior today. So the pale pigmented man just shouted at them all, his auras a colliding mess, the ringing that accompanied his voice grew louder, effectively making everyone wince and ceased in their current behavior. 

**“Enough!** Now all of you, just shut up and sit your asses back down right now! If I have to sit through any more of these nonsensical, childish outbursts from _adults_ , then I _will_ have Wil rip out your tongues and hang them up as ornaments!”

Everyone just sorta held their gaze at him, a few wearily looked at Wilford who had managed to appear where he was before. Feet up at the opposite end of the table, facing Dark with an effortless cheerful grin on his face. 

“Mm...ornaments you say? Now there’s a fun and festive idea.” 

No one debated that he wouldn’t do a thing like that, and not liking the odds, the crew sat back in their seats in brooding silence. Darkiplier straightened his hair and suit again, gaining comfort in fixing himself as well as keeping his steady hands busy. He sighed, letting his eyes fall closed for a minute, basking in the calm and quiet of the meeting room, allowing himself to breath for a minute or two. Soon, he exhaled and his shoulders relaxed. Once his coal black eyes opened, so many colored hues were put upon him like hundreds of tiny spotlights. He met all of their gazes with confidence, his own stern and harden features softening up towards a look that resemble something akindled to sympathy. His voice spoke out, even and steady like an undisturbed lake.

“Mayhaps my choice of words were too impetuous. I apologize but the fact of the matter is, yes, there is a lot of you that would be considered…an encumbrance, at least in terms of relativity and contribution. Let it be known that I am utterly aggravated by this too. I can’t _stand_ to see this table grow another inch longer. But it’s not up to me.”

Dark paused in order to breath. A little huff of breath escaped past his cold lips and he glanced down at the floor in contemplation. He hadn’t even realized that his body began to strut back and forth once he had started to speak. The figure head just hoped that the silence around him was from actual consideration towards his speech, and not just because everyone had tuned him out. He looked out across the room, his eyes forward and back straight. His arms folded themselves behind his back as his determination evened out his aura. Calm and collected as his final thoughts were weaved together smoothly, Dark started up his spiel. 

“Even though I am responsible for my own actions, even though I _consider_ myself responsible for your own lives one way or another, no matter what happens in this room or outside of it, I am not the one pulling the strings. The sooner we just admit to ourselves that some of us have been replaced, or forgotten, the sooner we all can work on a proper solution together. No, I’m not dismissing anyone of their service or existence. But a good portion of you have to be willing to take a less active role for the new arrivals. Or, at least learn how to share.”

The consensus was begrudging nods of the head and grumbles of agreements from the majority. The small percentage who didn’t nod, just didn’t speak. Too enraptured by Dark’s unbelievable serenity after his total outburst that was just a few minutes ago. Once he had gotten a proper response towards his attempts to empathize with his take on the situation, he nodded in gratitude. He continued. _“I’m_ not happy about this state of affairs, _you’re_ not happy about it. But you know who is?” The assembly said nothing like he had expected, but they looked on waiting for an answer to the rhetorical question showing that yes, they were still listening.

“His followers, admirers, devotees, fans! They will always be there to take part in his enthusiasm. They will make sure our conceptions were not in vain. They, are why we’re still here. All of us. However many assumptions about us they get wrong, or however many of us they may have forgotten over the years, you have to admit that without them or his friends some of us would have never gained a physical form, none of us would’ve had the impact that we had. None of us would be core elements in his development. No matter what new person may sit in your chair, even mine, we all have to respect it. We may not like it, hell, we may even hate it…but we have to respect Mark’s decisions.” 

The younger egos that were not familiar with the situation or Dark for that matter, they couldn’t help but admire him. They couldn’t help but want to follow this man as he seemed to shine bright in a way they couldn’t describe. He earned their respect. 

As for the older egos.. They knew exactly what Dark was talking about. All of the effort, work, hardships, and new experiences Mark had endured. Going out of his comfort zone, gaining a huge passionate love for music, skits, acting. Those moments with his friends, those early years of his career, had been so memorable and who knew that it was only the beginning of something that would take the world by storm. Who would’ve guessed the landslide of dedication and unconditional love being given to a man that laid behind a thin screen. That kind of feeling, that kind of deep regard reminded them all exactly what they all had meant towards Mark and his followers, grounding them towards a whole new perspective on things.

Even Wilford had to pause in consideration for a moment. A glazed look of remembrance came over his eyes. Pink dulling down to a soft hint of the regular brown that it had once been so long ago. Warfstache was not one to dwell on the sadness that happened in the past. That was all Dark’s department. All he was concerned with was spreading out his ideas and moving forward with his creativity. But Daniel...the one that Mark wished he could’ve saved. If it hadn’t been for him, Wilford would probably wouldn’t have been so beloved as he was now. His own small and ever changing heart let out a somber beat in respects. Hell, he wanted to applaud right now just because he was so moved.

Dark paused for a moment, taking in his audience. Their resolve found. He couldn’t stop the proud smile that graced his lips, one of the few times he would ever genuinely smile in front of them. His shoulders sagged as the tension released through a satisfied sigh. His own skin seemed to become more healthy looking as opposed to his natural pale complexion. It was glowing, beaming with honor.


End file.
